


Fascinating Window

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Confessions, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 13:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18757813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: John walks in on Harold at a bad time (or a good one).





	Fascinating Window

**Author's Note:**

> Tried to write crack, ended up with feels!

“I can only apologize, Mr. Reese,” Harold is saying, stammering, really. “This was very unprofessional of me.”

With his back to Harold and his hands firmly covering his closed eyes, John can still hear his clothing being put to rights. “It’s fine, honestly. I did tell you to relax. And you thought I was going home. I should have called to let you know I’d show up here.”

“You can turn around now, I’m decent.” When Reese doesn’t move, he adds: “John?”

John pinches his lips together, speaks from one corner of his mouth. “Yep, just give me a minute.” For all he’s trying to be mature about this, he’s afraid if he looks at Finch directly he might start laughing, and that would not help the situation. He also doesn’t want to see the happy post-orgasmic flush that he’d glimpsed on Harold’s cheeks replaced by any other emotion. It had been so unexpected and beautiful.

Harold waits - probably exactly a minute - before he adds: “I am not convinced that everything is fine and we can go on working together as normal tomorrow, if you can’t look at me.” It’s difficult to place his tone. Not bitter, not shuttered, and not nervous, now the initial shock has worn off. Closer to amused, maybe? Mixed with some concern.

John forbids his facial muscles to even twitch as he lowers his hands, turns, and fixes his gaze on a random point a few inches above Harold’s left shoulder. He can’t let his gaze wander down, and he can’t go up either.

“You’re blushing,” Harold remarks, and there’s nothing inherently cruel about it, even as John’s stomach drops because he _doesn’t have tells_. “Just your ears. So am I, which you’d know if you weren’t staring at the window.” He pauses, and when John doesn’t move, steps right through John’s eyeline, turning away and putting the desk between them.

Harold’s back is easier to focus on. He has clasped his hands at the small of it. He’s pretending the window is fascinating now as well.

John wishes he’d move closer instead. Fill up John’s field of vision, swoop in close enough to kiss. But Harold’s too good for that.

“If we had a more conventional partnership-” Harold begins.

At the same time, John croaks, “I liked it?” He blinks rapidly and clears his throat. “Seeing you like that. Only if you…were okay with it. More than okay, I mean - if not, I’ll never - but we could go somewhere? Or I could just…” Jesus, he’s babbling. In his haste to stop Harold retreating into his shell, John has made an utter fool of himself, done even worse than laughing it off would have. He clenches a hand at the back of his neck and drops his gaze to the floor, fights the urge to flee.

“You’re remarkably brave,” Harold says, which isn’t a dismissal. “Have you been told that?”

The opposite. All the battle instincts, no real courage. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be. You can look, John. If you see anything worth -” He stops himself, and damn, Harold’s just as tongue tied as he is.

He won’t wallow in past mistakes. Harold needs him now. John does the only thing he can: he lets go the last of his armor, then looks up, takes a step, then a few more, until he’s at Harold’s side.

After a moment, one of Harold’s hands touch John’s back, arm sliding around his waist. John sighs with relief and copies him, and they continue to stare at the window.

“Nice view,” John says mildly, because of course they’re just looking at tarp.

Harold laughs.


End file.
